


Wired

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Series: Restaurant Dogs [3]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning.  Or evening, depending on your point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wired

He had this dream that Cordelia marched in and kicked them, and  
he isn't entirely sure it wasn't real, because there's this spot  
on his left thigh that hurts like fuck-all.  The room had that  
swallowed-up light that rooms have when all the blinds are pulled  
in the daytime, and he was wrapped around Wesley with his cock  
nestled very happily in the shell of one of Wesley's too-thin  
hips.  Both of them naked and knotted up in Wesley's very clean  
sheets.

Cordelia ranted about men who didn't call when they were casting  
spells on life-threatening demons, and threatened at least once  
to chain him to the office by a chain attached to a metal ring  
stuck through him in a place he doesn't really want to think  
about.  So he ignored her and after a while she sort of faded  
out.

After that, he got to drift in that way-comfortable half-asleep  
place where he was just a big, warm lump in Wesley's bed.  With  
Wesley tucked against his belly like a really big, bony cat.  One  
with a really nice hip that he got to hump gently every so often.    
Which would have been really obscene if he'd been properly awake  
to think about it, instead of being a big, warm lump who couldn't  
be expected to produce extended metaphors.  So.  Drifted and sank  
deeper and woke again with his face pressed against Wes'  
clavicle.  Licked it gently just because it was there.

At the moment, Gunn wonders why random strangers don't drag  
Wesley down and fuck him on the street.  Because in the not-  
really-dark of the room he's almost glowing, and he looks less  
and less like a skinny, irritating white guy, and more and more  
like something that any sensible person would molest.

He can sort of remember them showering when they got in.  Cold-  
ish water, because the day was heating up into something ugly  
that nothing living should be out in.  Both of them sort of  
locked together and scrubbing each other down and rubbing each  
other off, and he thinks he got most of the runes off Wesley, but  
now that he's a bit more awake he isn't convinced he got  
absolutely every brush stroke.  He hopes that just messing the  
little lines up is enough to mess up their power, because  
otherwise Wes' been channelling some big, bad things while  
they've been sleeping, and also he's still linked with Ethan  
Rayne, which is quite a bit more hideous than even the idea of  
Cordelia walking in on them.

"You have the most enormous eyes.  They're quite wonderful,  
really."  Wesley, who's woken up and is blinking at him with the  
particular charm of the near-sighted.  His glasses are somewhere  
within reach -- on the night table, Gunn thinks -- but putting  
them on is the step that comes right before getting up, and they  
aren't going to be doing that just yet.

"Yeah.  Uh, thanks."

He supposes that at the moment he's just grateful that Wes hasn't  
freaked over waking up with a great big black guy wrapped around  
him.  He gives off those higher-class-than-thou vibes so often  
that Gunn finds he's still bracing for them.  Waiting to get his  
ass dumped on the floor.

Instead, though, he gets long, thin arms wrapped around his  
shoulders, and Wesley pulls him back down.  "It's only two in the  
afternoon.  We don't actually have to get up yet.  In fact, you  
should probably try to sleep."

Gunn finds that his cock is back against Wesley's hip.  It's more  
comfortable than it should be.

"Fine.  Jesus."  Lets his head fall into the hollow of Wesley's  
shoulder.  A bad angle, but Wes still manages to drop a kiss on  
his bare scalp.  Electric.  That same power he remembers.

"What *is* that?"

"What?"

"Like a really long static shock.  When you kissed me."

"I don't know.  Did it feel dangerous?"

"No.  Not really."  Thinking that it'd run through his body like  
a hard fuck earlier, but hadn't killed him yet.

"Then I'll look into it in a while.  Go to sleep."

Breathing Wesley's body-smell in.  Warm skin and sweat drying on  
it because somewhere just outside those blinds, it's really,  
really hot.  Not blazing, but hot enough that he's going to leave  
the sheet rucked around his waist and be grateful for the sweep  
of the floor-fan that Wesley dragged out and aimed at them before  
they crawled into bed at eight this morning.

***

Wakes up later and Wesley is gone, out of bed and across the  
room, with his ass up on the window seat and one knee bent up  
across it so that the heel of that foot rests against his crotch.  
Naked except for his glasses.  His cock just brushing his foot,  
too pale without hair.  Gunn got to learn first-hand exactly how  
sensitive that newly-shaved skin is.  Stubble in a day or two,  
but it's still barely twenty-four hours since Wesley skinned down  
in the first place, and in the afternoon light he's slick and  
tense and sexy.

Gunn realizes he's curled up on himself in Wesley's absence.  No  
pillow clutched against his belly, at least, but one hand's  
reached across the stripped sheets, looking for that other body.

Wesley doesn't look over at him.  The hand slung in his lap has  
china in it, some kind of basic mug that's steaming even in this  
heat.  He keeps looking out the window, every so often brings a  
hand up to the screen and runs his short nails down it, paying  
close attention to the tiny wire-scream that it makes.  Then  
drops the hand and drinks with the other one.  And doesn't look  
over at Gunn.

Not even when Gunn gets up and stalks over.  He knows what he  
looks like naked, or at least what kind of thing he looks like.    
Big, dangerous.  Longer legs even than Wesley's, more muscles  
showing.  Slick.  If it's an out-butching contest, he wins, but  
topping Wesley in the butch department is a hollow victory.  Like  
out-sensitiving Cordelia or out-smiling Angel.  Or not.  Because  
he isn't even a contender in either of those categories, and  
radiating sheer masculine threat is what Gunn does naturally.

He has to hook fingers under Wesley's chin to turn the man  
towards him, and when he does, he can see all the little lines  
that were smoothed out last night and this morning by whatever Wes  
was channelling.  Wesley, in spite of his almost childish  
insecurity, isn't young.  Not middle-aged yet, but definitely  
grown up.

Jostles Wesley's arm, and gets to find out that it's tea in the  
mug and not coffee when it spills and Gunn can really smell it for  
the first time.  Wesley's expression is utterly British, just  
blank but with a brittle edge underneath.  Big hurt blue eyes  
behind the dark wire rims.

He doesn't quite have words for what's wrong with Wesley right  
now.  He suspects that it has something to do with being English,  
and a lot to do with being a wizard, but mostly just to do with  
being Wesley, who's got a lot of raw nerves and always has a few  
of them screaming.  But he steps in for a second and lets Wesley's  
face fall forward against his belly.  White skin against black,  
and black hair brushing over him.

Gunn says, "I should go."  Then regrets it, because suddenly he  
can see some major tendons standing out in Wesley's shoulders.    
And tries not to regret it, because he suspects they're getting  
close to a morning-after scene that needs to be avoided at all  
costs.

"Should you?"

"I haven't called in.  My people are going to be scraping the  
floor of ever sewer in town for my dead body."  Grins while he  
says *my people*, because after a certain amount of time spent in  
the vicinity of lawyers and other suits, he's come to associate  
having people with doing lunch.  Then tries to imagine any of  
*his* people making lunch reservations in some upscale hotel for  
him.  And laughs inside.  It's a joke he's going to share with  
Wesley one of these days, though not for a bit, probably.

"You're fairly large.  I'd think you'd make a lump big enough to  
trip over."

Gunn reaches down and takes Wesley's cup away, then takes a swig  
from it.  Black tea or green, he's not sure, but with a lot of  
sugar in it.  And that, combined with the light, *really* reminds  
him of being about eight and sitting beside his Mom on a window  
seat a lot rattier than this one.  It makes him wonder what she'd  
think of Wesley.  That he's skinny, probably, and white, and  
scared of his own shadow.  But she might also get the whiff of  
power off him that Gunn does, and he thinks she'd respect that.

Wesley kisses Gunn's floating ribs.  Then the slightly hollow  
place under them, then his navel.  All without raising his hands,  
one of which is back against the screen and making that little  
noise again.  Licks the thin line of hair that runs from his navel  
down.  Bites a tiny fold of skin.

"I think you should leave later.  After we're finished."  He  
stands, so close to Gunn that there isn't room for both of them to  
breathe.  Drinks the last of his tea and puts the cup down.    
Kisses him and proves that the bitter dark of really good tea and  
the mass of sugar in it can produce a really interesting short-  
term high.

Thinking while they back towards the bed that Wesley naked at home  
is different than Wesley naked in public.  Softer, though not  
necessarily in a bad way.  Fewer edges.  Less vulnerable without  
his glasses, like he knows his way around well enough not to need  
them.  A blind man's perfect spacial perception.

Long fingers slide down Gunn's back like a static charge.

"Holy *shit*."

"Still doing that?"

"Um, yeah."  Electricity getting under his skin, running up into  
each muscle group individually and doing criminally good things  
there.  

"Good."  Fiercely.  And kisses him again, hard, and twists them  
around so that when they hit the messed-up sheets again, Wesley's  
on the bottom, his knees already spread to hold Gunn between them.  

***

Outside, Ethan Rayne's sitting on a closed dumpster.

"Did you fuck him?"

"You're the spy.  You tell me," Gunn says.  Tries not to notice  
Rayne perving at the place on his belly where his t-shirt's still  
rucked up from Wesley's last kiss.

"The runes are spoiled.  I could tell you were having sex, but not  
what you did."

Gunn gives him the scary-black-guy fish-eye and doesn't answer.    
Tries not to flinch when Rayne jumps down and falls into step  
beside him.  Tries not to think about Ethan's messy, skinny body  
making one long arc in the moment he slid off.

Thinks instead about Wesley's body under him upstairs.  Them  
necking, Wes bucking against him, Gunn's fingers sliding between  
those long legs and getting in where he really wanted them to be.    
About the fantastic whimper-hiss Wesley made when Gunn pushed both  
index fingers into his ass and went looking for his prostate.    
About the howl when he found it, and about the upstairs neighbours  
pounding on the floor in protest (jesus people, it's five in the  
afternoon, loosen up).  How he locked his mouth onto Wes' very  
hard after that and just kissed until they were swallowing each  
other's breath.

"How *is* our Mr Wyndham-Price?"

Gunn ignores him.

"Don't do that.  I wasn't asking about the sex.  I already know  
how he is in bed, if you'll remember.  I meant how is he reacting  
to the new power?"

Wonderful.  Electric.  Wesley's touch on his back was a wave of  
sparks when he thrust in.  The grip around his cock was almost too  
tight, like something overloading.  The two of them fucking, with  
Gunn up on his knees and Wesley arched back on his shoulders with  
his hips hauled up into Gunn's lap.  Still touching each other as  
much as possible, like a closed arc, even with the space between  
their bodies.  If he was a little older, even Wesley's age, he's  
have put his back out doing that.

"Huh."  Not really a question, but there's something that Ethan  
knows and he doesn't, and if Weasel-man doesn't tell him in the  
next couple of minutes, maybe Gunn'll just shake it out of him.

"Wesley's power is manifesting.  It usually feels like something  
between sex and an allergic reaction.  Sounds familiar, yes?"

"Yeah."  God.  Wesley's mouth under his when he came, electric and  
wet together and Gunn really thought it was going to short-circuit  
something vital.  Huge charge a minute or so later when Wesley  
came, hauled up to sit straddling Gunn's still-hard cock.  Wesley  
bit into their kiss, drew blood, and threw enough power across  
their contact to singe the tips of Gunn's ears.  And he *knows*  
that was magic.  Nothing in nature should be able to do that.    
"Why now?"

"Because he cast the most powerful spell of his life last night,  
and it opened a few new possibilities, if you like.  He's always  
been a wizard.  All Watchers are, to a greater or lesser extent,  
but he has the potential to be a lot more powerful than most."    
Unspoken *like me*.  "Like Ripper.  It should make him useful to  
you."

Gunn pulls together the handspan of height and forty pounds he's  
got on Rayne and uses them to back the wizard up against the  
nearest wall of chain-link without actually touching him.  Big  
flash of cowardice and arousal in the shaded brown eyes.  He looks  
around, but it's the wrong time of day for innocent bystanders,  
and he doesn't see anyone.  

So he pushes one hand down into Rayne's waistband and comes up  
with a handful of shirt, keeps pulling it up until the man's whole  
abdomen and a lot of his chest are exposed.  Looks hard at the  
bruises he sees there.  Rubs a thumb over the two shallow,  
parallel cuts.

"What're these?"

"Foreplay.  Last night."  Blunt, watching him.  But he already  
knew that Rayne was perverted, so this isn't really news.  If it  
bothered him, he'd have scrubbed himself and Wesley off really  
well sometime last night.  Naked Wesley at the San Gabriel  
reservoir, shimmering in the dark.

Gunn walks off to catch a bus.  Reminds himself to drive next  
time.  Or steal Wesley's motorcycle.  Somewhere behind him, Rayne  
lights a cigarette.


End file.
